


In A Pickle

by Vyxyn



Series: The Stilinski-Hales [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Babies, Cravings, Derek Hale has a potty mouth, Derek has a baby bump, I'll give you a nickel for your pickle, M/M, Mpreg, Peter is a douchebag, Pregnant Derek Hale, Stiles Loves Derek, sterek, werecubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 11:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5373818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vyxyn/pseuds/Vyxyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek loses his shit. Where the fuck are his pickles?</p>
            </blockquote>





	In A Pickle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lordkirashand](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordkirashand/gifts).



Derek stares into the fridge, growling in frustration.

“Where are my pickles?”

The carton of chocolate ice cream sits on the bench, waiting for the addition of Derek’s favourite pregnancy food. Pickles.

Calling out towards the bedroom, “Stiles? Where are my pickles?”

“They should be in the fridge babe! I sure as hell haven’t touched them.”

“Are you sure? Because they were here yesterday, and now they aren’t. And I NEED my pickles!”

Stiles comes out of the bedroom wearing just a towel, wet hair sending rivulets of water cascading down his chest.

Derek’s mouth goes dry. “Stiles you need to put some clothes on before we talk. I’m likely to strip you of that towel, and have my way with you.”

Stiles grins wickedly, and with arms stretched wide in an offering, “have at me babe.”

Derek shakes the brain fog, clears his throat, and gets back to business. “My pickles Stiles. They were here yesterday, and I’ve gone to get some today and they’re gone.”

“You know I’d rather eat a truck load of horse poop than even take a bite of your pickles, let alone a whole freaking jar. Maybe Peter ate them? He was here yesterday afternoon.”

Derek’s eyes flash red. He grits his teeth. “What did you just say?”

“Uh, all I said was maybe Peter ate them? He was here yesterday afternoon.”

Derek growls low. Stiles takes a step back. “I’m just going to call him and see what happened ok? I’ll be one second.”

Derek slams the fridge door as Stiles begins to flail backwards, holding onto the towel around his waist for dear life. Derek can hear Stiles fumbling with his phone, and leaving a message on Peter’s voicemail, “Yeah Peter can you give me a call, like ASAP? It’s Stiles. It’s important pickle related business. Ok. Call me. IT’S IMPORTANT.”

Stiles hangs up just as their front door is opening, and in walks Peter. Derek has one hand leaning against the kitchen bench, breathing through his nose to try and calm himself down.

“Why so angry Derek?” he asks flippantly.

“Where the fuck are my pickles Peter? WHERE ARE THEY?”

Peter stops still. “You’re angry about pickles.”

“YES, I’m angry about pickles. I had at least half a jar left, and I’ve gone to have some now, and they are gone. FUCKING GONE. Stiles tells me YOU were here yesterday. So, Peter. I’ll ask you again. WHERE. THE FUCK. ARE. MY PICKLES.”

“I took them home, I had a craving for them and can’t be bothered getting them myself. What’s the big deal?” Peter has made his way into the kitchen now, and is leaning with both hands on the edge of the bench.

“You had a CRAVING?” With eyes flashing red, and nostrils flaring, Derek picks up the spoon he had put aside for his ice cream and pickles, and stabs Peter in the hand, bending the spoon, and lodging it between his knuckles.

“What the fuck Derek! What is wrong with you?”

“You took my fucking pickles you asshole! What did you think would happen?”

“I thought you’d go and get some more! Not stab me in the fucking hand!”

Stiles comes running out of the bedroom to two werewolves wolfed out and roaring at each other, one of them with a utensil sticking out of his hand.

“What is going on in here? Peter, what possessed you to take the pickles? Seriously! How you thought taking a pregnant Alpha’s pickles was a good idea, is beyond me.”

“They are just fucking pickles! Jesus, Mary and Joseph …”

“Yeah and they are one of the few things I can eat that don’t make me feel like vomiting. Pickles and ice cream.”

Peter pulls the spoon out of his hand, and smirks, “separately of course.”

“No. Together.”

Peter pulls a face of disgust. Sneering at Derek he says, “You’re kidding. The mighty Alpha eats pickles and ice cream.”

Derek roars at Peter, and picks up the now bent spoon and stabs it into Peter’s other hand.

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU??” Peter pulls out the spoon, and throws it at Derek. Meanwhile, Stiles has taken his life into his hands, and has grabbed Peter from behind, and is hastily trying to usher him out the door.

“This is probably the dumbest thing you’ve ever done Peter. Time to stay away for a bit hmmmm? I wouldn’t put it past Derek to dip a knife in wolfsbane or something and go all stabby stab on your favourite appendage.”

Peter doesn’t get a chance to reply, as Stiles shuts the door in his face. Hurrying into the kitchen, he puts the ice cream back in the freezer so it doesn’t melt, and takes Derek’s trembling hands in his, leading him to the couch.

“It’s ok babe, I’ve got Scott to go pick you up some more pickles, ok? He’s going to get a couple of jars. He’s going straight to the store now.” Stiles tries to calm Derek, smoothing back his hair, and kissing his brow. “If Peter is as smart as he thinks he is, he’ll stay away for a while.”

Derek leans into Stiles, his breathing slowed, his eyes back to their beautiful green. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to flip.”

“It’s ok Der. I know you feel horrid, and I know how much of a comfort your weird ice cream concoction is. You’re doing so good, you know. Carrying our cubs, caring for them, having them a part of you. I’d never be able to do that, you know? I’m too much of a hyper spaz. And I’m too in love with pizza, which wouldn’t be good for them. So if you want to have ice cream and pickles, you damn well have ice cream and pickles. And I’m making steak tonight too.”

Before Derek can reply, there’s a knock on the door. Stiles is up, tripping over Derek’s legs, and hoofing it to the door. Throwing open the door, and then throwing himself at Scott, Stiles mumurs, “You totally missed it bro, Derek stabbed Peter with a spoon.TWICE.”

“Seriously?” Scott hands over four bags worth of groceries.

“What on earth did you buy Scott? We just needed pickles!”

“Well I wasn’t sure how much ice cream you had left, so I got more of that. And here’s the pickles. And I know Derek is ok with steak too, so I bought a few more slabs.”

“Scott bro, you are the greatest!” Turning to Derek, “Babe, I’m making your ice cream and pickles now, and bring it to you ok?”

Derek is laying flat on his back, with a hand rubbing soothing circles over his tiny baby bump. “Thanks Stiles. And thanks Scott. I really appreciate it.”

Scott’s goofy grin breaks free, “No worries man. Can’t have you starving our cubs now can we?”

Stiles smiles, “Yeah we’re having cubs. Imma be a daddy!”

“Yeah you are!”

Then Stiles and Scott chest bump, with Stiles ending up on the floor. “Dude. You’re still doing that to me!!”

“Yeah well you’re the dumbass who chest bumps with a werewolf.”

Scott says his goodbyes, bro-hugs Stiles, waves and he’s gone. Stiles finishes up in the kitchen, bringing Derek an extra large bowl of chocolate ice cream and pickles. “Here you go baby, feed our cubs.” Derek sits up a little to eat, and Stiles slides next to Derek on the couch, folding Derek’s legs over his lap. He traces circles into his shin and calf muscle.

“Der?”

Derek grunts after shoving another spoon of ice cream into his mouth.

“Can I touch your cubby bump?”

Derek stops, the next spoonful at his mouth, “Why would you ask? Of course you can. They’re your cubs too.”

“It’s just … I know a lot of women hate their bump being touched, so I just thought I’d ask. It’s definitely ok?”

“Mmmmm definitely ok.”

Stiles rubs his hands together, and gently lifts Derek’s shirt. The bump is small, but definitely there. With trepidation Stiles takes his hands, and gently lays them on Derek’s belly. He leans forward and whispers “We love you so much already little cubs. So so much.”

Placing a kiss on the bump, he leans back and looks at Derek, “I love you babe, but you smell like pickles. And who even stabs someone with a spoon?”  
  
Derek grins around the spoon in his mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to lordkirashand for the idea for this fic! Hope this is what you were after.


End file.
